


My lows get a little bit lower

by TheDiamondSword400



Category: Starlight Express - Phillips/Stilgoe/Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beating, Bullying, But they are pretty terrible in this, Electra Being Surprisingly Decent, Gets kinda unintentionally shippy at the end, Graphic whump, Greaseball Being A Jerk, Greaseball's Gang Being Awful, I love Greaseball and his gang, Medical-ish stuff, Physical Violance, Rusty Whump, Serious Injuries, Whump, Wrench is Nonbinary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Summary: Greaseball and his gang take things a step further after Rusty is cheated during the race.
Relationships: Electra & Rusty (Starlight Express)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	My lows get a little bit lower

He had derailed.

He had lost.

Those two short sentences would have normally crushed and broken him. But instead they only made him angry.

Because it wasn't his fault!

He could remember the shock of feeling C.B. suddenly putting on the brakes. The panic and outrage, the surge of adrenaline as he frantically tried to uncouple himself from his saboteur. The feeling of the Red Caboose's hands as he had been unbalanced and sent tumbling off the track.

He'd been robbed!

Robbed of his victory.

Robbed and humiliated.

He could remember Pearl rushing to his side. He had been too hurt and dazed to respond to the first class car. After what he'd heard he was glad of that fact. There was no telling what he might have said.

It had been Greaseball.

Greaseball the reigning champion.

He was behind this.

It may have been C.B's hands that did the pushing but it had been the diesel's plan.

Greaseball laughed loudly as he rolled back into view, Pearl no longer with him. Clearly he had wanted to enjoy taunting the steam engine without the coach making a stink. “A nobody?” the diesel repeated, having overheard what his lackey's were saying “Nah, He's less then nobody. He's a _steam engine_.” He lowered himself to one knee to get into the bullied engine's face, drawing out the last two words.

“At least I don't have to cheat to win a race!” Rusty snapped, emotions boiling over as he looked up to glare at the diesel.

A heavy silence slammed down over the yard, Greaseball's head snapping around to fix the steam train with a shocked look then transformed into rage.

Rusty swallowed around the lump that had appeared in his throat, feeling the change in the air. He shrunk back from the look in the diesel's eyes, feeling two inches tall. The predatory hate in those gray eyes burning into his mind.

The diesel engine shot to his feet in a sharp fluid motion. “You need to be taught your place.” Greaeball declared then glanced at his gang, seeming to reach a decision. A grin spread over the larger engine's face, white teeth flashing and making the steam engine's heart skip a beat “Teach him what happens to steam trains that get in the way of a diesel, boys.” he laughed and turned away.

Rusty's eyes went wide with horror as the other engine wheeled away. “No, wait!” he cried out, reaching out desperately to the diesel as he glided past. But he received no indication that the other had even heard him. “Greaseball!” he screamed as the engine disappeared into the shadows. No! No this couldn't be happening! How could the other engine leave him like this? To be beaten up by his lackeys!

He spun around to face the leering cars he had been left with and scrambled back on hands and knees, frantic to escape.

He didn't get far.

Crank, a burly powerful freight car, grabbed him by the arms and pulled him roughly to his feet, pinning his arms at his sides and laughing in his ear.

“You should have stayed in your Poppa's yard with the rest of the junk!” Piston laughed, pulling back his fist. He paused to give his knuckles a spit and polish before slamming a right hook into the steam train's mid-section.

Rusty cried out in pain, eyes squeezing shut. His legs jerked up in a reflexive defense and his shoulders twitched in an effort to hunch forward to protect himself. But the burly freight had him pinned too securely, keeping him helpless and vulnerable.

Gasket elbowed in beside Piston and landed three quick jabs to the newly dented panel. Rusty jerked with each blow, barely having time to react before a new burst of pain flooded his senses. His vision blurred and swam.

Piston aimed a powerful uppercut to the steamer's jaw, a loud crack echoing through the air. Rusty's head shot up, back of his skull slamming into Crank's shoulder plate as his vision blacked out, body going limp.

The gang threw him to the ground, laughing.

Rusty was jarred back to consciousness as he hit the ground, shaking in pain and fear. He choked out a broken sob, pain reverberating through his frame as he curled his fingers into the dirt. His jaw thummed, pulsing with agony and clearly broken. Oh, Starlight, everything hurt!

He let out a strangled yelp as someone grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him over onto his back. Gasket knelt beside his head and punched him in the jaw again and Rusty let out a gurgling cry as he felt the damaged metal buckle inwards and a shard break loose. Blood filled his mouth and the poor steamer sobbed in terror. He was going to die here! He was in too much pain. He couldn't possibly feel worse so death had to be the only possible next step.

Piston knelt and grabbed hold of his left arm, twisting the limb painfully and pining it down as the steam train struggled against his hold.

Gasket punched Rusty in the temple and pinned his right arm down while he was dazed.

The two laughed stridently at the injured steam train's futile effort to twist free of their hold and tightened their grips enough to bruise.

Rusty whimpered helplessly and trembled, tears flowing down the side of his face.

Crank dropped to his knees near the supine engine's legs and leaned forward over his hips to sneer into the steamer's face. “Let's make sure you never race again!” he declared. The component grabbed the engine's right leg, digging his fingers into the seam at his mid thigh, and pulled with all his might.

With a squeal of tearing metal and the pop of snapping bolts, the leg tore free.

Rusty _**howled.**_

His back arched as he wailed in agony, eyes blown wide but unseeing. Nerves screamed in time with his howl, stomach churning and tying itself in to knots. Pain, denial and horror consumed his thoughts. Oh, Starlight!

Oh, Starlight, no!

_NO! NO! NO! NO!_

Crank threw the severed limb aside and laughed as the glazed blue eyes followed it's arc through the air. Rusty's entire body flinched at the loud _Crunch-thunk!_ of the leg hitting the ground somewhere out of sight.

Crank laughed again and jumped forward, straddling the engine's waist.

Rusty flinched as the large component landed on him, twisting his head away and squeezing his eyes shut. His entire body screamed _DENIAL!_ He could no longer handle acknowledging any of this. He just couldn't.

Crank grabbed his chin and forced the engine's head to face him.

But Rusty skewed his eyes more tightly shut, brow pinched, refusing to look. He couldn't take _seeing_ anymore.

Crank tightened his grip, digging his fingers into the open crack on the engine's jaw. Rusty let out a broken whine as he felt the blunt digits poke his wound and cracked his eyes open, vision blurry with tears as he stared up at his tormentor.

“Don't be going to dreamland just yet, Champ.” The burly component leered down at him, leaning in close “We ain't done with you yet.” He declared and released the engine, letting his head drop roughly.

Rusty winced as the back of his head struck the ground hard and whimpered loudly. Blows rained down on his head and chest, his metal panels denting and cracking under the abuse and the taunts and laughter of his abusers ringing in his ears.

Oh, Great Starlight Express, let it end!

Electra was feeling peeved.

This was supposed to be simple.

Come in, add another title to his already long list and move on the the next race.

Instead, he was forced to deal with the politics of the other engines and constant re-scheduling. Fah! Sometimes he wished he wasn't such a stubborn engine and could just move on to another race and leave these unprofessional fools to squabble in the dirt.

Volta would definitely approve of leaving. But he had never been one to turn down a challenge.

He frowned as a high-pitched noise filled the air and paused. Was that . . . coyotes? Was there a bunch of wild animals roving the railyard on top of everything else?

Another sound split the air and Electra felt a wave of emotion pass through him he wasn't used to feeling. Uncertainty. That . . . didn't quite sound like a wild animal . . .

Curious, the electric engine followed the noises.

They led him back in the direction of the racetrack. He rounded a corner and jerked to a halt. The little steam train that had derailed earlier lay not to far from where it had fallen when it went flying off the track. But it wasn't alone now. Three of that Diesel's entourage were with him. Two pining his arms to the ground while a third sat on the steam engine, pulling roughly at his chestplate while laughter and sobs filled the air.

Along with the sound of tearing metal.

Now that was just unsportsmanlike.

With a burst of speed, Electra shot forward, ramming into the car holding down the steamer's right arm down. The car went tumbling head over heels from the unexpected attack. The other two leaped to their feet and lunged at him. Electra easily dodged the reckless punches thrown at him, using the moves Krupp had taught him in case of emergencies. He sent one flying, throwing him into the first car he had dropped and knocking them both back to the ground. He shot a quick jab the throat of the brute that had been trying to rip the steam train apart, making sure to add a bolt of electricity to the punch, and kicked his legs out from under him.

The three stumbled back to their feet and wheeled away, fleeing in terror.

“Obsolete peasants.” Electra sniffed in disapproval as he watched them go.

A low moan drew his attention and the engine glanced over his shoulder. The little steam engine lay a few feet away, looking utterly wretched. Pieces of him lay all over the ground, including – STARLIGHT ABOVE, WAS THAT HIS LEG?!

Stunned, Electra picked up the discarded limb and slowly made his way over to the injured engine. He knelt down beside the still form, laying the torn leg beside the jagged stump it was meant to be attached to.

Looking over the other engine it became clear that wasn't his only injury.

The steamer's jaw sported a large gaping crack and he was covered in deep dents and scratches. His chestplate, which had been being so rudely pulled on when Electra showed up, had a jagged gap at the top with steam leaking out. Those swine having clearly intended to rip his chest off as they had his leg.

To put it simply, Electra had seen junkers in scrapheaps in better condition. Sad to see the spirited little engine in such a deplorable state. The electric engine eyed the supine steamer silently for a minute then reached up, brushing his fingers over his ear and activating his internal communications. “Volta, send Wrench to my location.” he ordered

There was a stunned silence for a moment before she acknowledged his command.

He shut off the communicator and glanced down at the sound of a small groan. The steam engine's eyes fluttered opened and blinked, a suspicious frown spreading across his face as her registered the other engine leaning over him “What are you doing?” The steam train demanded, trying to sound defiant. But he couldn't hide the tremble of fear or the slur of pain in his voice. The smaller engine tried to drag himself away only to he gasp in pain and collapse back down to the ground.

Electra just tilted his head slightly, watching him with an impassive expression “You won't get very far on one leg.” he drawled

Rusty whimpered and eyed the electric engine wearily. “What do you want?” He asked brokenly. Greaseball had already taken his revenge and he was scared to think of what the newcomer to the yard would do to him.

“I want to win the race. Where have you been for the last few days?” Electra demanded as he stared down at him, quirking his brow.

Rusty blinked up at him in confusion “You don't . . . You aren't mad at me for racing?”

“Why in Starlight's name would I care about that?” Electra demanded, staring at him in bemusement.

The steam engine struggled to find a response to that, mouth working but no sound coming out.

“Mr Electra, sir! Are you al-! Oh.”

Electra looked up as wrench skidded to a halt in front of him. His medical component blinked uncertainly down at the injured steam engine.

The steam engine stared up at the component, baffled.

“Wrench, put him back together.” Electra commanded, gesturing to the other engine.

“What?” The freezer car looked at him uncertainly for a moment then straightened, nodding to themselves “Oh. Yes. I can do that. Easy fix.” Wrench declared, regaining their confidence with such clear cut orders.

Rusty flinched when the component dropped to their knees beside him, showing no respect to his personal boundaries as they leaned over his lower half. Wench grabbed the severed limb from where Electra had dropped it and laid a hand on the stump, attention fixed on lining the pieces up.

Rusty blanched at the feeling of the torn leg rubbing again the metal of his stump, the sensation of component's fingers touching and reconnecting his inner mechanisms making him feel ill “Why are you doing this?” he sobbed out, overwhelmed by having two strangers manhandling him while in a vulnerable state.

“What is the point of having a Medic if you never use them?” Electra responded indifferently

“But I don't understa-eep!” Rusty choked out a cry and stared with wide eyes. One of Wrench's fingers had sprouted a flame like from a welding tool, which they adjusted and began to play over his leg.

Rusty shuddered, stomach churning at the feeling of his metal melting as it was welded back together. “Why would you care?” He choked out “I'm just an obsolete corroded steam engine!”

He squeaked in surprise when Electra's face suddenly appeared inches from his own with a very serious expression. Rusty swallowed, staring wide eyed up at the other engine and feeling very exposed by his scrutiny.

“You have some serious self-esteem issues.” Electra declared.

Rusty blinked, thrown off kilter by this unexpected statement “Ummm . . .”

“It's done.” Wrench suddenly announced

Rusty, thankful he had been spared having to find a response, glanced down his body. His leg was back where it belonged, only a shiny silver ring encircling his thigh to indicate the trauma he'd endured. Hesitantly, he pushed himself up and ran his fingers over the smooth metal line. He swallowed thickly and jerked his hand back. His own touch reminded him too much of how Greaseball's lackey had held it before -

He quickly shook the memory from his mind and shot to his feet, determined to get as far from this place as possible

Unfortunately, he had forgotten his other injuries.

His vision blurred and went dim, legs buckling underneath him. Rusty threw out his hands, clasping hold of someone's arm as he steadied himself.

His vision slowly cleared and he blinked uncertainly at the hand he was holding onto. Glanced at the strong hand gripping his shoulder in support. Then looked up at the face of their owner.

Electra.

He was holding Electra's hand.

Rusty blanched and quickly let go, backing away as he swayed on unsteady wheels “I-I'm-!” he stuttered then swallowed thickly, cutting himself off “Thank you . . . thank you for your help.” he mumbled sheepishly and turned away, hurrying off down the rails as fast as his injuries would allow. He held his chest as he went, desperate to get to Poppa and trying to put what had happened out of his mind. The older steam engine was good at repairs, he would be able to patch him up. And wouldn't make him feel so . . . so weirdly small and important at the same time as the electric engine did.

Electra watched the steam engine go with an unreadable stare then turned away, heading off to rejoin his other components as Wrench followed at his heels. He wasn't entirely sure what to think of the little steam train. Even a few days later, when he lost to the stubborn little steamer, he was not sure how to feel about any of this.

But one thing was certain.

He had come to admire steam's power greatly.


End file.
